An Unfortunate Occurrence
by Eb Evans
Summary: Following the Netherfield Ball and Mr. Collins' unsuccessful proposal, Elizabeth Bennet finds herself forced to reconsider her previous perceptions of certain individuals.   This is my first P&P, so feel free to make any comments .
1. The Beginning

The Beginning

The walk to Meryton was a much welcomed diversion for Elizabeth Bennet. The previous day's turmoil stemming from Mr. Collins' quite lengthy—but unwelcomed and unaccepted—proposal had barely subsided. Mrs. Bennet's constant lamenting over their "most ungrateful girl" and her "thoughtless behavior" not to mention her nerves had heightened the house's already unsettled atmosphere.

Charlotte Lucas' arrival and invitation for Mr. Collins to remove himself to Lucas Lodge gave Mrs. Bennet further license to voice her ill humor with less discretion. So intent on her vexations was she that she failed to notice the adverse effect they had on her household: the greater her wailing, the less empathy she received.

Rather than endure the further tirades of her mother, Elizabeth escaped with three of her sisters—for Mary had chosen to remain—on their leisurely walk into town. While Kitty and Lydia spoke further of the events of the past twenty-four hours—amid much shrieking and giggling—Jane and Elizabeth walked in silent contemplation, only uttering the occasional _sotto voce_ comments to one another.

Their arrival in Meryton was greeted with the hoped-for appearance of Lt Denny and other favored gentlemen of the militia residing in the town. Of note was also the much previously missed Mr. Wickham. As the initial greetings of the two groups dissipated with Kitty and Lydia proceeding off with their favorite officers, Jane excused herself to visit a shop to give Elizabeth time alone with Mr. Wickham; a favor Elizabeth greatly appreciated.

"I was disappointed to hear of your being called to town on business, Mr. Wickham, for you missed a very festive ball," Elizabeth commented as they walked at leisure through Meryton.

"Yes," he responded, maintaining the ruse, "I was also disheartened to not be in attendance, as I was not able to enjoy your very pleasant company." Although Elizabeth looked forward, Wickham's sideways glance allowed him to view her attempt to cover a smile, but not the slight blush that graced her cheeks.

Debating with herself whether to maintain the charade, she forced the subject. "I was led to believe that your absence could have been attributed to your desire to 'avoid any contact with a certain gentleman.'" She could sense his posture straightening as though formulating his defence. After a moment, he replied, "I found as the time drew near, that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy; - that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.''

A brief glance was exchanged between the two as they continued their walk. "Of course," he continued, "I am very much grateful that Mr. Bingley so generously invited the officers to attend the ball. It continues to be the main topic of conversation, including the loveliness of the Bennet sisters."

At this, Elizabeth halted and faced him. "Then it is even more reprehensible that Mr. Darcy should be allowed to enjoy the status of a gentleman while slighting someone with such forbearance."

Wickham looked down on her with a very kindly smile. "It is to your credit that you display such loyalty, in defiance of those with rank or social standing." They stood, gazing at each other for a moment, coming to a silent understanding before he gestured for them to continue.

"I appreciate your sentiments, Miss Bennet," he sighed deeply, "but it is an unfortunate burden that I have born for years, and fear I shall continue in doing for many more."

Truly this is a man grievously harmed, thought Elizabeth, still leisurely walking alongside Wickham. So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she had not noticed the unease that suddenly overtook him until he completely stopped. Looking up, she saw Wickham's sheet white face, then realized they had come to the far end of the village, and two men—very nicely dressed—standing but fifteen feet before them.

"What is it, Mr. Wickham," she asked quietly, taking his arm. "Please tell me what is wrong."

Keeping his eyes on the gentlemen before him, he leaned down to her. "Miss Elizabeth, it is best that you leave now," he said.

Focusing her attention on the same two gentlemen, she leaned into him and replied, "I will go for help and return straightaway."

Barely had she turned around then she bumped into two more gentlemen directly behind them.

"That won't be necessary, Miss," said one, towering over her.

It felt like her breath had left her completely as Elizabeth stared at the two men she had just encountered. Finally getting enough air, she started to question, "Who …"

"Miss," the one closest to her cut her off, "we have business with Wickham here and don't need no interference. No harm'll come t' ya if you just come along quiet like."

She stared between the two strangers and Wickham, contemplating what action she should take.

"Better to just do as they ask." It was Wickham's voice breaking into her mind. "I'm sorry you have to be a part of this," he said quietly as he took her hand and started walking in their original direction. The two men came to flank the couple on either side with one commenting, "That's right. We don't want to keep the Duke waiting, now do we?"


	2. The Duke

2 – The Duke

The two men in front led them down a small side street and behind two shops where an elaborate carriage stood flanked by two more men. The open door revealed an older gentleman, handsomely attired, sitting with a cane, scrutinizing the progress of the party coming toward him.

"Mr. Wickham," he called out in a civil, yet commanding voice as they drew nearer, "how nice to see you in this charming village," and with an unmistakable leer in his eye toward Elizabeth, "and in such lovely company." Her grip on Wickham's arm became vice-like immediately.

Trying to maintain the civility established by the Duke, Wickham responded with a slight bow, "I'm pleased Your Grace appreciates the beauty to be found in Meryton."

Elizabeth contemplated whether Wickham's comment was an intentional double entendre, in which case her unease was mounting. She could scarcely abide the politeness displayed by the two, in contrast to the menacing presence of the Duke's men that surrounded them, effectively cutting off any route of escape. Added to this was her confusion at what sort of business was taking place, causing her to expend all her energy in affecting any semblance of decorum.

She realized the Duke was addressing one of his men, as he asked, "What is the reason for this young woman's presence?"

"The lady was wanting to get help, Your Grace," answered the tall one whom she'd accidentally encountered first.

"Ah, I see," he responded. "Young lady," she realized the Duke was addressing her now, "I regret your being witness to the business we must attend, but I trust you will cooperate while we proceed, Miss …"

"Are names really necessary," she heard a familiar voice from behind her. To her amazement, Mr. Darcy was dismounting his horse, striding quickly toward them, followed by Mr. Bingley. She realized her mouth had dropped open as he approached, only to be barred by two of the Duke's men standing behind her.

"Do I know you, Sir" asked the Duke with quite the quizzical look on his face.

"I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly, nephew of the Earl of Matlock. My friend here," at this he gestured toward Bingley, "is Charles Bingley." For the first time acknowledging Elizabeth and Wickham, he continued. "We noticed our friends as we entered the town and were making our way towards them when we noticed they detoured from the main road."

Had this situation not become as stressful as it was, Elizabeth would have burst out in laughter at his statement. He was making his way towards his 'friends'? Still, she found it odd that Mr. Darcy's presence provided a great comfort to her.

Elizabeth noted the Duke's countenance display some respect towards Mr. Darcy as he addressed the Duke.

"I believe I knew your father, Mr. Darcy. George Darcy, was it?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied, "I have the honour of being his son." By this time, Mr. Darcy had been close enough to see the crest on the carriage and ascertained the identity of the gentleman he addressed.

"Let them through," the Duke called to his men who had blocked their path. Darcy and Bingley came forward with Darcy trying to get as close to Elizabeth as he could, but Wickham came between them, a brief look of defiance directed at Darcy as he came to stand next to him.

'Fool!' thought Darcy. 'Even in a situation as dire as this, you would act such.'

"So," announced the Duke as though calling a meeting to order, "to the business at hand." He then addressed Wickham directly. "Mr. Wickham, it seems you have been remiss in settling your debts at my club." Elizabeth felt Wickham shift as the Duke continued. "In point of fact, it seems you have increased those debts instead of lessened them."

Wickham lowered his head and fidgeted more before straightening and addressing His Grace. "I have every intention of settling my account with you, Your Grace."

"And when do you plan to accomplish that, Sir," asked the Duke. "For this business has continued for many months."

With a slight dip of his head, Wickham replied, "I shall endeavour to accomplish this soon, Your Grace."

"I was given the impression that endeavour was to have taken place but two days past when you made your last appearance at my club, but your debt seemed to only increase."

As Wickham fidgeted further, Mr. Darcy took charge. "Sir, if I may inquire, what is the amount of the debt my friend has incurred?"

"His debt has now amounted to £1000, Sir. And the stress at its lack of diminution is a source of great concern to me, as you can imagine."

Though still frightened as she witnessed events unfolding, her grasp on Wickham's arm was lessening as she realized how misled she had been by him. Wickham's grasp on her hand, however, was becoming stronger, adding to her unease. She heard Mr. Darcy addressing Wickham directly.

"How are you planning to settle your debt to the Duke, Wickham," she heard him ask in a lowered voice.

Elizabeth glanced up to see Wickham hesitate before trying to form an answer. The self-assuredness he'd previously displayed had abandoned him and he seemed to cower before Mr. Darcy.

Raising a finger to briefly excuse himself, he turned to Bingley to confer quietly. Their journey into Meryton to close Bingley's account was to be their last task of the morning before departing for London with no immediate plans to return. The situation they encountered upon arriving to town, however, was significantly forcing their plans to be altered.

"Bingley, how much is in your account here," asked Darcy.

"It is sufficient to cover the amount the Duke is owed."

Clapping his friend on the shoulder, Darcy asked, "Will you provide the loan until I am able to repay you?"

Nodding, Bingley replied, "That will be no burden whatsoever."

Turning back to the assembled group, Darcy addressed the Duke. "Your Grace, if you will permit, my friend and I are able to cover Wickham's debt."

A noticeable sigh of relief seemed to emanate from the entire assemblage as the Duke pronounced his agreement to the transaction.

"Then, perhaps, Your Grace, the young lady may be permitted to accompany Mr. Bingley as he procures the amount. I, of course, shall remain until his return."

The Duke, with the barest of smiles, replied, "There is no need to deprive us of such lovely company, Darcy. She is not bothered by remaining here, are you my dear?"

After remaining silent for so long, Elizabeth found she barely had a voice as she replied, "I am fine. Thank you, Your Grace."

"There, you see, she is fine," said the Duke somehow seeking acknowledgement from the group. This was Bingley's cue.

"I shall return shortly," he said as he hastily made his way toward the bank.

"Sir," addressed Darcy, "while we wait for my friend's return, would you permit me to speak privately with the young lady."

It was Wickham who seemed most opposed to this, as though it was she who was affording him protection, for his grip on Elizabeth's hand increased and shifted his body slightly to further stand between her and Darcy.

"I see no reason not to allow it, unless," the Duke turned to Elizabeth, "the lady objects."

Again her voice seemed to be failing her; she was barely able to utter, "No, I have no objection, Your Grace," as she shook her head.

Still unwilling to let go of her hand, Wickham kept his hold on her right hand that rested on his arm. Unable to reach out to Darcy's extended hand, she was forced to use her left hand. As Darcy led her away, she glanced back at Wickham, whose eyes reflected barely restrained anger. When they had sufficient distance, Darcy brought her close and held her gently by her upper arms.

"Are you unharmed, Madame," he asked in a low voice, trying to make eye contact, but she kept her head down.

He barely heard her, "I am well, Sir, thank you," so quiet was her response.

The realization that Wickham's character was not as she had interpreted had greatly unsettled her. And, in observing Mr. Darcy's actions and obvious concern, she was coming to understand she had most likely misjudged his as well. This awareness filled her with such shame and remorse she was unwilling to lift her head to make eye contact.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear away from the others. "Miss Bennet, you need not be fearful. Bingley will return shortly and this will all be over."

She nodded, still looking down, while quietly saying, "I thank you Sir." She felt Darcy's hands leave her arms and then, with one hand, take her hands, while the other hand reached to her chin to gently raise it. Forced to look directly in his eyes, she was taken aback by the tenderness he expressed, such as she never thought the man capable. That, and her awareness of how he had stepped in to settle the potentially volatile situation, spirited her resolve and abated her fears.

"This unfortunate business will be completed soon; I promise you," he said as he released her chin.

With renewed strength, she smiled and said more firmly, "Thank you."

Realizing they were the focus of the others' unwanted attention, they turned with Darcy enfolding her hand in the crook of his arm and covering it with his other hand. Elizabeth tried not to notice the glare still directed at her from Mr. Wickham, but she could feel it regardless.

"Is the young lady alright, Mr. Darcy," the Duke asked. "Is she well?"

"Quite all right, your Grace," Darcy responded. "Thank you for your concern." Elizabeth provided her affirmation with a shy smile.

"Perhaps she would be more comfortable sitting in the carriage here," the Duke gesturing to the seat across from him as he said this.

Elizabeth's stiffening and renewed grip on Darcy's arm provided all the affirmation Darcy needed. "Your Grace is very generous, but it is not necessary."

"But I insist," he replied with a slight smile but a tone that would tolerate no opposition. His two men closest to them responded with a movement forward, but Darcy quickly responded, "No assistance is required, thank you gentlemen." And, holding firmly onto Elizabeth's hand, escorted her to the door of the Duke's carriage where he squeezed her hand before handing her up to her seat.

As she settled herself uneasily into the carriage under the Duke's lecherous gaze, Darcy stood at the steps and proceeded to divert his attention from Elizabeth. "I trust the affairs of your estate are well, Your Grace?"


	3. Resolution

3 – Resolution

_[AN: First, thank you all for your kind words, constructive comments, and just for reading. I haven't tried to intentionally leave you hanging at the end of the chapter; it just happened that way. So, here's another installment. Please forgive me, but it will probably be a few days before the next update. Oh, there's a warning of some violence in this chapter, but nothing too graphic.]_

Meanwhile, Bingley was quickly progressing to the bank there in Meryton, when he unexpectedly encountered the person of Miss Jane Bennet.

"Miss Bennet," he cried as she approached. "I am so …," oh dear, he was at a loss as to handling this distraction from his task, "I am so glad to see you," he finally blurted out. "Are you well?"

Allowing a slight smile to grace her lips, she replied, "Yes, Mr. Bingley, I am. I trust you are as well, but presently, I can't seem to locate my sister Lizzy. Have you seen her by any chance?"

Bingley was speechless as he contemplated his answer. He couldn't tell his angel about the drama that was occurring at the end of town where her sister was, nor could he let her accidentally wander into the middle of it.

"Oh Miss Bennet," he said haltingly, "I am sure your sister is quite all right. However, I am at present constrained to make a transaction at the bank. If you will accompany me there now, I will be most glad to help you search for Miss Elizabeth."

His answer seemed to calm her mild distress and she accepted his arm as they continued to the bank. Upon entering, he asked her to wait for him on a bench inside as he made his way to the teller. While his original intent of the day was to close the account, the events that were transpiring convinced him to merely make the withdrawal currently required.

As Bingley had become quite well known and well liked in Meryton, he was afforded much respect by those at the bank. Sensing this, he prevailed upon them for an additional courtesy. Speaking with an available officer of the bank, he requested, "Sir, the young lady that came with me," gesturing toward Jane sitting quietly.

"Miss Bennet, Sir?"

"Yes Sir. I have but a small task to complete which Miss Bennet cannot be party to."

As soon as he uttered the words, the expression on the gentleman's face changed, making Mr. Bingley realize he'd misconstrued and assumed Bingley was off to purchase an engagement ring after making such a sizeable withdrawal. Trying to recover quickly, he further asked, "I request that you show great discretion in this matter and also ask you to allow Miss Bennet to remain here until I return for her."

"There should be no difficulty, Sir. And you have my absolute word on remaining discrete," he said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Quickly returning to Jane, she started to rise, but Bingley sat next to her and took her hand in his. "Miss Jane," he asked, almost breathless, "I must make a request of you." She gave her consent with a slight nod before he continued.

"I must ask you to remain here for just awhile longer. I promise to return as quickly as I can, at which time I'm sure we will find your sister." He saw a shadow of doubt cross her face.

"Please," he reiterated with some urgency, "Please, Miss Bennet, say you'll remain here until I return." The beseeching in his eyes made his request hard to refuse. She nodded her head and quietly responded, "Yes, Mr. Bingley, I shall wait for you here."

His sigh of relief was released with a quick but brilliant smile as he rose from his seat. "Thank you Miss Bennet. I shan't be long, I promise you." Giving her hand a squeeze, he left the bank and hurried—nearly running—back to the far end of town.

His return to the scene was heralded by his heavy breathing as he approached. Quickly scanning the setting, he was greatly distressed not seeing Elizabeth.

"Where is she? What has happened to …"

"She is right here, Bingley," Mr. Darcy quickly cut him off, not wanting Elizabeth's name revealed to the Duke. "Everything is fine," he said reassuringly. "As long as you were successful as well," Darcy asked.

"Oh yes, I was able to secure the amount requested," Bingley replied, pulling out the small satchel he'd been given at the bank and stepping forward, tried to hand it to the Duke, but Darcy quickly snatched it out of his hand.

"Before you receive this, Your Grace," began Darcy, "may I procure a promise from you that you will not allow Mr. Wickham entrance to your club in the future?" He glanced over at Wickham who's previously smug countenance was now sagging greatly.

Leaning forward, the Duke responded affirmatively, "You have my word, Darcy, that Wickham will never set foot there again."

Upon receiving the Duke's promise, Darcy handed him the satchel, which was then quickly untied for reviewing its contents. The Duke's look of satisfaction from the number of bills and their denominations caused Darcy to quickly take action.

"Allow me, then, to assist the dear lady down from the carriage, Your Grace," as he reached up to take Elizabeth's hand. The Duke reluctantly acquiesced, though still desirous of her company.

"I thank you, young lady, for your cooperation," he said, his tone indicating his continued reluctance to part with her and his resentment toward Darcy for monopolizing the conversation during the time Elizabeth has graced his carriage (for he himself barely knew any details of the workings of any of his properties, nor did he care to discuss them; he'd only wanted to engage the young lady in conversation).

Elizabeth nodded in acceptance before responding, "I thank you, as well, Sir, for your hospitality."

He nodded back slightly. "Perhaps in the future …"

"Oh Your Grace," cut in Darcy, "with the many properties you own, I can see no reason for your visiting Meryton anytime in the near future."

"Mr. Darcy," said the Duke, "I appreciate beauty wherever I find it." His gaze rested on Elizabeth, making her quite uncomfortable and Darcy tense.

"I am sure you do, Your Grace," replied Darcy in a very controlled voice, "but great works of art and beauty are usually appreciated with the eyes only."

"True enough, Mr. Darcy," he said, "usually."

With a slight bow, which the Duke acknowledged, Darcy and Elizabeth started to turn away when the Duke spoke again. "Now, Mr. Wickham …"

Wickham had thought he would emerge relatively unscathed from what had transpired, but realized it was not to be as the Duke addressed him.

"… it seems that although your debt has been paid, the circumstances of its escalating to this level might require a reminder of sorts. Would you not agree, Sir?"

Wickham hung his head. Breathing a heavy sigh, he responded, "I can understand you would think so, Sir."

"Then you know what is now to happen." Wickham slightly nodded, now resigned to his fate.

Darcy immediately pulled Elizabeth to the side and stood her squarely facing him with her back to Wickham and the Duke's men.

"Bingley, if you wouldn't mind?"

Bingley nodded and stood directly behind Elizabeth with his back to her. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy questioning and barely got out a "Wha…?" before he reached out to hold her hands.

"I'm sorry, but you mustn't see what is about to take place. However, I feel I should stay to ensure there is nothing excessively done."

Elizabeth was still in confusion. "I don't understand. What …?"

Darcy leaned down and held her face in his hands, causing a slight gasp from Elizabeth. "Please, just focus your attention on me." The Duke had been observing the exchange between the two and once Darcy had settled Elizabeth he nodded to the Duke who then signaled his men.

At the sound of the first punch, Elizabeth gasped and started to turn, but Darcy pulled her against his chest with one hand wrapped around her and one cupping the back of her head. "Do not look, my love. I'm sorry but this must be," he whispered.

Elizabeth flinched at each sound and groan she heard and forced herself to keep quiet. It was an eternity before she felt a slight movement from Darcy and then, the sounds finally and mercifully ended. She remained in Darcy's arms as she heard the Duke, "Gentlemen, I believe this concludes our business." The silent adieus were exchanged followed by the sound of doors closing and the carriage pulling away with the Duke and his entourage. No one of the remaining group seemed to move until no more could be heard.

"It is over now," she heard Darcy whisper and she gave the slightest indication of hearing, but didn't move from his hold. "Bingley," Darcy asked, "could you stay with Miss Bennet while I see to Wickham?" She felt him release her and Bingley put a gently comforting arm about her. It was with some reluctance she let her eyes follow Mr. Darcy to where Wickham lay on the ground, moving slowly. She watched as he offered his hand, helping Wickham to a sitting position and crouching down as they spoke quietly together. Wickham's face showed cuts on his cheek and above his eye; those were the injuries she could see, but suspected he'd sustained several to the abdomen as well.

She was silently contemplating the scene before her when she heard Mr. Bingley speaking to her.

"Don't worry, Miss Bennet, we will see you home." She nodded and barely whispered her thanks.

"Your sister, Jane, is awaiting me at the bank. I saw her as I made my way to make the withdrawal and was afraid she would follow me here, so I asked her to wait there until I returned."

Elizabeth shifted to look Bingley in the eye.

"She was in earnest, searching for you." He faltered before continuing. "It was unpleasant enough for any woman, let along yourself, should be forced into this situation; I couldn't bear for Ja … I mean, your sister to be subjected to it as well."

Elizabeth couldn't help but feel grateful Bingley had acted as he had done. The thought of anyone as sweet as Jane enduring what she herself had just witnessed was unconscionable. Her already fragile resolve was near giving away before she could respond to Bingley.

"Thank you. You're right, I would have been very fearful for Jane had she been here. Thank you for protecting her."

By this time, their attention had shifted back to Darcy and Wickham, the latter finally attempting to rise to his feet with Darcy's help. Where Darcy had initially been solicitous of Wickham's well-being, Elizabeth could see the anger rising in Darcy as his facial expression became hardened.

Although she could not hear the words exchanged, Wickham seemed to be taunting Darcy now – for what reason, Elizabeth couldn't fathom after what had just occurred. Darcy stood in a protective stance, as though guarding Wickham from advancing on Elizabeth and then, with final parting words said between the two, Wickham slunk off, but not before casting Elizabeth an unreadable—and unsettling—glance.


	4. The Journey Home

4 – The Journey Home

_AN: You have no idea how much I've appreciated the comments and suggestions you've all given (even the ones I can't respond to). Thank you for being patient as this story continues._

Darcy waited almost a count of five after Wickham disappeared before turning back toward Bingley and Elizabeth. The tension in his face as he approached revealed the anger he suppressed inside. His mind was in turmoil as he weighed what had just transpired and Wickham's parting words. But he could not reveal this to anyone just yet, not until he had determined what further action need be taken.

Elizabeth tensed as he drew closer, observing his countenance. What had Wickham said to disturb him further? She wondered if his anger was directed at her for any reason and thought what she could have done. Yet, he had just demonstrated such protectiveness toward her; could that have changed so suddenly?

Darcy, meanwhile, saw what he interpreted as fear on Elizabeth's countenance as he approached. The thought crossed his mind that his physical actions may have overstretched the limits of propriety and caused unintended offense. Perhaps I was too physical with her person, he thought as he slowed his steps coming nearer.

No verbal communication occurred as Darcy came to stand before Elizabeth; their eyes seemed to speak volumes when their lips said nothing. And, where they felt no awkwardness with their silent exchange, Mr. Bingley, on the other hand, most certainly did.

"If you both will excuse me," he interjected," Miss Jane Bennet is waiting for me to retrieve her at the bank." They showed no acknowledgement of what he had said as Bingley continued. "I assume you would prefer to wait here for our return rather than to accompany me."

Still silence.

"Darcy." Finally, he was heard.

"Yes," Darcy was almost startled, "Of course, Bingley." His eyes stayed on Elizabeth's. "We shall remain here until your return."

Bingley's arm had remained around Elizabeth while the other hand had held hers. She was still holding onto his as he prepared to leave, causing him to not want to seem ungentlemanly by merely releasing hers. His only course of action, he deemed, was to place her hand in Darcy's accepting hand before he made his hasty departure.

Their continued silence remained until they both tried simultaneously to speak. The slight moment of mirth was followed by Darcy indicating his acquiescence for her to speak first.

"Sir," she started, self-consciously formally, "you can have no doubt as to the depth of my gratefulness to you. Had you not come …"

Darcy's abrupt step forward startled her. "Please, Miss Bennet," he began, "the only thanks I need receive is the knowledge that," he paused and changed his inflection indicating the following as a question, "you are not harmed?" He studied her face to ascertain whether her expression would reflect the contrary.

She paused before answering as she was struck by the kindness he displayed toward her.

"I am unharmed, I believe, thanks to you."

He nodded in acceptance of her thanks. "I am afraid, Miss Bennet," he began slowly, "that my actions during this unfortunate occurrence may have caused you, if not physical harm, no slight amount of undue duress. And for that I must apologize."

"Mr. Darcy," she sighed, weighing her words, "as I am unfamiliar with occurrences such as this, I can hardly criticize your actions. Considering that your appearance here, along with Mr. Bingley's, gave me the greatest consolation during this ordeal, I find it completely unnecessary to grant forgiveness where no offense was taken.

"However," she continued, "if there is forgiveness to be requested, then it must be my asking it of you." Darcy started to protest but she stopped him. "It was my lack of judgment in believing the words of a liar that contributed to my presence in this situation." She tried removing her hand from his, but he held on to it firmly. "I was too willing to think ill of you and for that," her voice dipped to an almost inaudible level, "I am truly sorry … and embarrassed."

"Miss Bennet," he started, moving closer so that mere inches separated their faces, "had I not given you reason from our first meeting, you would not have been so easily led. But understand that Wickham is a well-practiced deceiver. You are not the first person he has preyed on." He faltered and pressed his lips together as though trying to repress a memory. "I am grateful you have become aware without any further distress to yourself."

Elizabeth looked in his eyes and recalled his words from their dance at Netherfield. "As you said, 'Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his _making_ friends - whether he may be equally capable of _retaining_ them, is less certain.' I believe I understand you more fully now, Mr. Darcy, and wish I had heeded your words more quickly."

"I could not force you, Miss Bennet, for I know trust must be earned. And I have learned enough from sketching your character," they both smiled at his reference, "that it would be difficult to force you into anything."

They were still engaged in pleasant conversation when Bingley returned with Jane on his arm. Jane was instantly aware of how close the couple stood to each other, their hands entwined, and the gentle smiles that graced both their faces. She rushed forward when she caught sight of them, nearly dragging Bingley along.

"Lizzie!" she called as she approached. It was then that Darcy relinquished Elizabeth's hand as she reached out to Jane's.

"Lizzie, are you all right?" Her tone was breathless as she gave her sister's face closer inspection.

"I am fine, Jane, really. I am quite alright." She glanced over at Mr. Bingley. "I am not sure what you know of what has occurred."

Glancing back at Mr. Bingley first, she addressed Elizabeth, "Mr. Bingley has only said you were part of a serious incident, but you were not physically harmed. Is that true?"

"Jane, I am unharmed, thankfully. However, I am not sure I could say that were it not for the intervention of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy."

"Well," Jane swallowed, "am I not to know the particulars?"

Darcy spoke up. "Perhaps that is a conversation you would prefer to have in private, Miss Bennet. More important at the moment is to return you to Longbourn; would you not agree?" And with this, he gestured toward the horses.

Elizabeth stopped as she felt Darcy's hand brush her lower back and turned to him. "Sir, do you intend for me to ride your horse?"

Darcy's expression was of profound bewilderment. Was it not obvious, he thought.

Jane quietly stepped in, as though needing to interpret. "Lizzie doesn't ride horses, Sir."

Darcy looked down and saw Elizabeth's pensiveness. Leaning down in a posture well practiced only recently, he spoke very quietly to her. "This is a very gentle horse that will give you no reason to fear. I will lead him while you ride." She still looked at him, doubting.

"Miss Bennet," he began, "you have already trusted me much today and very quickly in order to avoid any harm to yourself. Pray, trust me on this as well and you have my assurance you will still be unharmed."

She begrudgingly resumed their trek toward the horses. "I thought you said I could not be forced, Mr. Darcy."

He let out a quiet snicker. "I am not forcing you, Miss Bennet; I am merely coaxing."

Once they were at the horses, Darcy lifted Elizabeth into the saddle and settled both the horse and rider before securing the reigns. Bingley did likewise with Jane, but with considerably more ease.

"Miss Bennet, I assume you would prefer your returning to Longbourn by way of a less public route?" Darcy asked.

"You assume most correctly, thank you, sir," Elizabeth replied and with that, the party began their journey. Jane reached over and gave Elizabeth a reassuring pat on her arm. Elizabeth returned her gesture with a shaky smile of thanks, envious at her sister's ease in riding that she had never possessed.

When they had made their way out of the village proper, Jane could stand it no longer. "Lizzie," she said quietly but firm enough to get her sister's attention, "Must I wait until Longbourn to hear of what happened today?"

Elizabeth realized it was unfair to keep Jane in suspense, but her own unease riding caused her some distraction from feeling comfortable discussing the incident. In addition, she was concerned how Jane would bear hearing of the turn of events. Nevertheless …

"Oh, Jane," she heaved a sigh, "We have been played for fools, taken in by a most charming deceiver."

"Lizzie!" Jane was aghast. "What can you possibly mean?"

With that, Elizabeth proceeded in providing Jane the details of what had so recently transpired. She kept her voice just at a level to be heard in an effort to convey the discretion she wished to maintain about the event. And, while their escorts were quietly in conversation before them, they could not help overhearing and somewhat enjoying Elizabeth's description of their part in the drama, told with admiration for their heroic actions.

In spite of her attempt to remain calm throughout recounting the event to Jane, Elizabeth noted her sister's becoming more troubled. Though she tried to reassure Jane frequently that she herself had suffered no harm, Jane's stress was increasing.

Finally, Elizabeth took the only action she could. "Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, please," she called to them, "we must stop." When they looked at Elizabeth, questioning, she indicated to her sister. "It is Jane," she plead, "please, we must stop at once."

They quickly responded, halting the horses and assisting the ladies down. Elizabeth hurried to Jane's side with both Bingley and Darcy coming to stand nearby, waiting to be of service.

"Jane, please," Elizabeth tried to soothe, "you must not trouble yourself. As you can see, I am quite well."

"But Lizzie," Jane started in a very quiet voice, indicating her need to maintain control, "what if they had not come?" She glanced quickly at the two gentlemen. "What would have happened to you?"

It was a thought Elizabeth herself had wondered and tried not to dwell on. Jane giving voice to the question made it an issue she was realizing she would eventually need to resolve in her own mind.

It was Darcy who quietly took charge. "Miss Bennet," he said very softly, "it is best for now to not consider what the alternative could have been." He refrained from the motion of placing his hand on her arm for reassurance, for fear of upsetting her further.

The retort Jane was forming went unspoken as she began her recovery from Elizabeth's shocking tale. She looked Darcy in the eye, nodded her thanks to him, and, with the lightest touch on her sister's hand, quietly dismissed herself and stepped away. Bingley made to follow her, but Elizabeth's slight step impeded him.

"Please, Sir," she started, "give her a moment to collect herself." Neither gentleman understood her meaning, for neither had witnessed anything improper from Jane.

"Although she has been upset to know the details of what occurred," Elizabeth explained, "my sister is more embarrassed by her actions just now. She is not one to display her emotions in front of others."

At this, both Darcy and Bingley were stunned. How unlike her mother or youngest sisters was Miss Jane Bennet. That she would be so discomfited by this barely exposed show of emotions was a shocking revelation to both men.

With amazement in his voice, Bingley asked, "Then how does one know how she is feeling if she conceals so much?"

The barest smile touched Elizabeth's eyes as she replied. "One must observe carefully, spend time with her, listen to her, and earn her trust."

While Bingley watched from a distance with increasing amazement at his angel, Darcy was contemplating how utterly in error he had been when considering Miss Jane Bennet's feelings for his friend. His previous assessment that she did not return Bingley's affections could now be thoroughly discounted as he watched her silently settle any remaining unrest.

Jane still faced away from the others at a distance as she lifted her head and seemed to square her shoulders. It was then Elizabeth took a step past Bingley, toward Darcy, indicating Bingley could now see to her sister. He approached her with a compassionate stealth, not wanting to cause her any renewed upset. When she slightly turned at hearing his approach, her smile was restrained, but her eyes displayed her welcome to him. He gently reached for her hand and held it with all the comforting assurance he could.

Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy realized they had been studying the other couple until they saw Jane's acceptance of Bingley's presence; they both simultaneously let out a sigh of relief and shared a mild laugh. How odd, thought Elizabeth, that she should be enjoying the company of this man who, previous to today, she was sure shared a mutual dislike. Her mental review of the events of the day brought her back to Jane's question.

"Mr. Darcy," she asked, "I fear Jane's question can't be easily ignored." Darcy realized she would press him on this. "What would have happened had you and Mr. Bingley not come as you did?"

He looked her in the eye, a myriad of emotions running through him, before he answered, with the slightest of smiles. "Miss Bennet, I should not be surprised at your persistence." His attempt to distract her from answering was not successful, as she arched a playful eyebrow at him. "I fear there are many other alternatives, and thinking of them fills me with greater disdain for Wickham." His voice sounded colder and frightened Elizabeth. "So, you see Miss Bennet," he softened his tone, "it is as much for your benefit as my own that I prefer not to think further on that question."

"I understand Sir," she responded. Though not satisfied with his answer, she thought it best not to press him further.

Jane and Bingley were now approaching them with Jane's hand resting on his arm. They decided that, since they were so close, they would all continue on foot to Longbourn.

As they approached, there seemed to be much activity within the house. Squeals, shouts, wails amid further commotion emanated, causing no small amount of consternation for the two couples arriving.

Drawing closer, Elizabeth's blood froze as she heard one of her mother's wails, "Oh poor Mr. Wickham."


	5. At Longbourn

5 – At Longbourn

_AN: Again, let me just say how much I appreciate the encouraging comments everyone has made and am open to differing opinions. Thank you all._

If Elizabeth harbored any hope that she alone had heard her mother, it quickly fled when she observed the expressions of those with her. Further discernable wails produced more upheaval as they neared the door. "Oh that insufferable girl! How could I have born such a child?"

Elizabeth's step faltered just enough for Jane to press on into the entryway ahead of her to try to curb the storm that seemed to rage in the house. Her appearance in the door was abruptly greeted by her most anxious youngest sisters.

"Jane! Where's -? LIZZIE!" Their united exclamation produced such further rantings from their mother inside the house that Elizabeth felt her only respite was to turn and flee. Had it not been for the gentlemen behind her, she most likely would have. Her sisters greeted her with an insistent flurry of questions before she could enter any further.

"Lizzie, where you there? Were you with him? Did you also hear about Charlotte? Lizzie, where have you been all this time?"

It was Jane who tried to bring some calm to the situation. "Please, we have guests," she said nodding toward Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. "Let us make our way to the sitting room first."

Jane and Elizabeth were both removing their bonnets as they made their way, Elizabeth bracing herself for the coming deluge. She was not disappointed.

"There she is," dramatically announced her mother. "She has ruined us all!" Her continued wailings were muted just enough to allow her audience the opportunity to react sufficiently.

"Mama, please," Elizabeth said, trying to pacify her mother for the benefit of their guests. Her mother's usual solicitous behaviour in Mr. Bingley's presence was for once completely suspended – an unfortunate development, to Elizabeth's thinking. "To what are you referring? Are you still upset about Mr. Collins' offer? And what of Charlotte and Mr…?"

"Charlotte!" Her mother cried, "Don't mention that name here or anytime in my presence. It shall be heard enough when your father dies and we are all turned out."

"Mama," Jane tried in a supplicating tone, "what do you mean?"

Lydia was only too glad to step forward. "Mr. Collins has made an offer to Charlotte Lucas and she has accepted him." Her eyes were barely containing her amusement. "Can you believe, only a day after Lizzie rejected him?"

No sound could be heard, for even Mrs. Bennet had stilled to observe her second daughter's reaction to this news. The shock affected all in the room, albeit for differing reasons.

Elizabeth was at a loss whether to feel relieved that Charlotte had removed any further attempts by Mr. Collins or betrayed by her quick acceptance of him. Jane's concern was for whether her friend could be happy with such a man. Mr. Darcy was aghast that the man should feel himself worthy even to ask for Elizabeth, but rejoiced she had refused him. Mr. Bingley was relieved Mr. Collins had not set his sights on his angel.

"You see what you have done," hissed Mrs. Bennet, waving her handkerchief at her. "We shall all be turned out, Miss Lizzie, and it shall be on your head."

With her head reeling from what she was hearing, Elizabeth forced herself to focus on her other pressing question, unaware of Mr. Darcy's surreptitious movements toward her.

"But," she started and then swallowed to moisten her now-parched throat, "but I heard someone mention Mr. Wickham's name as we approached." She looked around to anyone who would answer.

"Now _that_ is a gentleman," called out Mrs. Bennet. "A true gentleman is what he is."

No horror could have descended upon Elizabeth more than hearing her mother's words. She was thankful to have support, but was still surprised to hear the voice behind her.

"I beg you, Madam," she heard Mr. Darcy say as he stepped forward, standing next to Elizabeth, "what has this noble gentleman done?" The trace of sarcasm was just discernable in his tone.

"He was in a fight," burst out Kitty, almost breathless, wanting to have her say in this. "You were with him earlier, Lizzie; did you see it? He said he was defending the honor of a young lady and she showed no thanks whatsoever. Did you see who it was Lizzie?"

Elizabeth stared at her sister. No words could pass from her lips, for, as it seemed, her lungs had chosen that moment to cease functioning. Her knees followed suit as a dark cloud descended over her vision; she heard Jane's anxious, "Lizzie!" as she collapsed.

Enjoying the sanctuary of his library, Mr. Bennet was having trouble concentrating on the book in front of him, as the turmoil of his household had been considerably more eruptive than usual. There was barely a knock to be acknowledged before Mary rushed in. "Papa, you must come quickly," she told him. "Lizzie has swooned. It's from all the excitement."

Hearing that his dearest child was in any way impaired brought Mr. Bennet to action. He quickly followed Mary and was taken aback at the sight before him; amid the chaos of the room, his Elizabeth was being cradled in the arms of none other than Mr. Darcy. Her head was against his shoulder and Mr. Bennet was surprised to see such concern pass Darcy's face as he looked down on his daughter.

Without waiting for anyone else's instruction, Darcy asked Jane to lead him to Elizabeth's room. They all watched as Darcy left, ascending the stairs with Elizabeth in his arms. So focused were they all on Elizabeth that no one but Mary was aware that Mr. Bennet was surveying the scene until Elizabeth was gone.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was struggling to fight the dark cloud that had enveloped her. She knew she had been falling but was not aware of hitting the floor. Instead, she was feeling cushioned and then a feeling of floating on nothing. As her head was being supported, she inhaled a familiar scent that she had only recently come to associate with feeling protected.

Sounds came from her, but no words as she tried to communicate. She must have displayed some agitation, for a voice she connected with the scent emerged into her consciousness.

"Do not fret yourself," the voice said, "all will be well." She felt herself incline closer to the voice and then felt something gently brush across her forehead as she also became aware of Jane's voice. She was not entirely ready to relinquish this protected feeling when she felt herself being laid down and instinctively reached out to prevent any desertion (an action noticed by her sister). Her probing hand was met by a larger, firmer hand that held on while she was being settled in.

"Just rest," the voice said in a gently commanding manner, "and I shall call on you in the morning." She felt herself relax as the hand stayed hers next to her and she sensed more activity around her.

Jane whispered her appreciation to Darcy as he hesitated by the door for one last parting look at Elizabeth before abruptly exiting and returning downstairs. The previous cacophony that had accompanied his departure from the scene was now met with a solemnity akin to a crypt (the master of the house having dictated a reign of silence). Bingley met him and indicated that they were to meet said master in his library.

The two younger gentlemen entered the library and, at Mr. Bennet's nod, closed the door. "Gentlemen," Mr. Bennet began, as he was sitting and indicating they should as well, "I thank you for your attention to my daughters. I'm sure you will understand my desire for some explanation."

A silent agreement passed between the two as Darcy stood. "Mr. Bennet," he said almost standing at attention, "I must apologize for not bringing to your attention earlier the nature of Wickham's character. Having known him since childhood, I am well aware of what he is capable of and should have warned you against his association with your daughters much sooner." He waited for some response from the older gentleman who only signified with a nod that he should continue.

"Wickham has a reputation of being careless in his handling of money and in his dealing with young ladies. It was unfortunate that Miss Elizabeth was innocently thrust into the middle of a situation related to both." Mr. Bennet's nonchalant manner was replaced by one of more urgency as he leaned forward waiting for Darcy to continue.

"Wickham has a weakness for cards, Sir, and frequents all such places to accommodate his vice. One of those belongs to a certain duke, who came to Meryton today, accompanied by several of his men. It was while Wickham was in the company of Miss Elizabeth that the duke's men found him and brought them both to the duke."

Fear washed over the face of Mr. Bennet, losing all expression. "My Lizzie," he barely uttered, "was she …?"

"She is unharmed, Sir," Darcy reassured, stepping forward, "physically, though as you may assume, she was unsettled. However," and with this Darcy's gaze looked distant, "throughout, Miss Elizabeth displayed a forbearance and decorum few ladies could have sustained in any similar situation." Both Mr. Bennet and Bingley noted the admiration Darcy displayed, Mr. Bennet being the more stunned of the two.

"How did the two of you …" asked Mr. Bennet, breaking into Darcy's reverie.

"We had just arrived in Meryton," interjected Bingley, "when we saw Miss Elizabeth and Wickham being escorted by four men off the main road at the end of the town. We followed them to the duke's carriage."

Fortunately, Mr. Bennet's decanter was within easy reach, as well as four glasses. He offered his guests a drink, which they accepted out of politeness, neither one requiring one nearly as much as their host did. Once he had taken a sip, he indicated for either one to continue their narrative.

"The duke was seeking settlement from Wickham for his debts," Darcy continued.

"What amount was that?"

Darcy sighed, "Sir, it was an amount sufficient that the duke thought his personal attention was required."

Mr. Bennet nodded, accepting that was all the explanation he would receive on that detail. "And he was able to pay it," he asked suspiciously.

Bingley made to answer, but Darcy cut him off. "Bingley was able to provide the loan to Wickham immediately." Darcy looked at Bingley, requesting his silence on any further details, to which Bingley silently consented, but did add his own comment.

"While securing the amount, I encountered Miss Jane who was in search of her sister. Not wishing her to find Miss Elizabeth at that moment, I persuaded her to remain at the bank until I returned for her."

Mr. Bennet was suddenly agitated. "Are you saying you left Lizzie alone with that pack of wolves?"

Both gentlemen responded quickly. "No, Sir, no, please," they tried to assuage him. "We asked the duke to let her accompany Bingley to the bank," Darcy explained, "but he would not have it, as he had become," he slightly hesitated, "the duke had become fond of Miss Elizabeth." Another sip from Mr. Bennet's glass.

"She was not left alone with them, at any time, Sir," Darcy further explained, "as I could not have done that in good conscience." Mr. Bennet seemed relieved as he took yet another sip.

"And Wickham's fight," he asked, assuming he knew the answer even as he spoke (for he had heard in the previous uproar of Wickham's injuries).

"The duke felt Wickham needed to be reminded of the importance of repaying debts quickly," Darcy quietly asserted.

Mr. Bennet seemed resigned as he asked, "And I suppose Lizzie was witness to that as well."

"She was there, Sir," Darcy responded, remembering that moment, "but her eyes were averted."

Mr. Bennet gazed out the window before focusing on the two gentlemen before him, studying one in particular.

"I wonder," he asked, his eyes fixed on Darcy, "had Elizabeth not been in Wickham's company," Darcy blanched, realizing the question coming, "would you have intervened, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy fully understood the deeper question Mr. Bennet was asking him and had been contemplating it since Wickham had asked him that same question before his departure. He found himself still fighting with the answer.

Not wanting to commit himself, he chastised himself for his cowardice as he answered, "I would not want to see any gently bred lady in such a situation as that, Sir."

Mr. Bennet merely smiled, allowing himself to believe he knew the truer answer than the one given. A silence ensued in the library as each man weighed his own thoughts.

"Sir," Darcy spoke with a solemn tone, "because of Wickham's statement and subsequent actions, I believe it in her best interest to ensure Miss Elizabeth not be alone away from the safety of Longbourn. My concern is also based on the attention the duke exhibited toward her."

"The duke?" Mr. Bennet was unnerved.

"He was most attentive to her, Sir."

Mr. Bennet sighed, "I shall speak with her and I thank you—both of you—for your aid in this situation." He glanced out the window. "I suppose it would do no good to expose Wickham. To refute his boasts would subject Lizzie to undue scrutiny and damage her reputation in this town of gossipmongers."

A lingering silence threatened to descend on the library once again.

"Sir," Bingley broke in, nervously standing as he addressed Mr. Bennet, "in securing the payment for Wickham's debt," he began, "while maintaining the secrecy of the reason, I am afraid there were assumptions made at the bank." Both Mr. Bennet and Darcy looked at Bingley with confusion.

"That is, Sir," he cleared his throat, "I believe it was thought I was planning to make a purchase on behalf of Miss Jane, Sir." Neither man was comprehending, requiring the already nervous Bingley to further explain.

"I believe they think I was purchasing a ring for her, Sir." Both men looked at him with alarm.

Only slightly less nervous, Bingley continued, "While that was obviously not my intention at that moment, Sir, I cannot say that the idea is completely foreign to me or would be objectionable." He started pacing and spoke further as his companions remained in stunned silence. "I plan on returning to London shortly, Sir, and in the intervening time, would like to call upon Miss Jane to determine if her feelings are in agreement with mine." There, he had said it and heaved a sigh of relief.

A sly smile eased across Mr. Bennet's face. "You are welcome here at any time, Mr. Bingley." Turning to Darcy, he added, "As are you, Mr. Darcy."

He rose and escorted them out of the library. On their approach to the entrance of the house, they were greeted by Kitty and Lydia.

"How is your sister," asked Mr. Bennet trying to sound casual.

"She is recovering," responded Kitty brightly.

"Who knew she was so in love with Mr. Wickham," giggled Lydia.

Mr. Bennet's response was swift, but measured. "My dear girls, it would do you well to avoid that man's company at all cost and never mention his name in this house again." They stared at him open mouthed. "I will advise your mother and your sisters of the same." They mutedly nodded, still in bewilderment.

"I assume Miss Jane is still attending to her sister," asked Bingley. The girls both nodded, not quite recovered. "Please tell her that I should like to call on her tomorrow, if she is open to it."

"That will be no problem, Sir," responded Mr. Bennet, clapping the man on the shoulder. "As I said, …" he left the statement unfinished as he looked at both gentlemen, silently reaffirming the invitation he had given in the library.

Bidding their adieus, the two gentlemen mounted their horses for their return to Netherfield with greatly changed plans from what they had originally.

They rode in silence for a short while before Darcy asked, "When do you plan to return to London, then?"

The gleam in Bingley's eye would have been answer enough, had Darcy not been looking forward.

"I am in no hurry," he said, trying to repress his growing mirth. "And yourself," he asked impishly.

Darcy tried to remain solemn, "Neither am I."

_AN: When I first thought of this story, this is where I planned to end it with only a brief epilogue (and the reader could conjure up any further details). But, look for a little bit more in the next few days (I'd like to finish before I go away for Christmas). Thx, ee_


	6. Musings by Moonlight

_AN: I apologize for the delay, but there was this thing called Christmas that popped up (hope you all enjoyed yours). Thanks again for your many kind words._

6 – Musings by Moonlight

The events of the day continued vexing Elizabeth's brain into the night as she tried to settle herself to sleep. That she had been so completely wrong in her prior assessments of Messrs Darcy and Wickham was only one aspect of her aggravation, one that she had made peace with after reflecting on Mr. Darcy's words: Wickham was a well-practiced deceiver and she had been only too willing to give his lies credence.

Now the more troublesome aspect of what had transpired revisited her: she was now reasonably assured that she and Mr. Darcy did not hate each other. And, upon further reflection, she felt she was safe to say they were close to actually liking each other, but caution prevented her from saying it with certainty. But then, in further contemplation, she found herself wanting to push the argument just a bit further – could it be more than "like"?

It was at this point her torment increased greatly. She remembered the relief at seeing Mr. Darcy's approach, his self-assuredness when addressing the duke and taking charge, his words of reassurance for her safety, the warmth in his eyes, his touch on her hand, her arm, her chin, the feel of his arms about her, … No—Elizabeth forcibly stopped the smile that had spread across her face—she couldn't think this way about a man that she was sure she had loathed only that same morning! It was impossible for her to change that drastically and that quickly. And she was sure it was the same for him.

And thus restarted the cycle of vexation Elizabeth had endured for several hours now as Jane slept peacefully next to her, a contented smile delicately gracing her face. How she envied Jane; she could look forward to a deeper relationship with the man she loved. Why could it not be as easy for herself?

She determined to lay still and not think of anything. This, of course, was pointless; however, this time, she also thought back on the talk her father had had with her later in the afternoon. He discussed with her what Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had told him of what happened and asked for her further confirmation that she was not hurt in any way.

Her assurance seemed to settle his mind, but on observation, she noted that her father was still pensive. While she waited in silence, he had walked toward the window looking out at nothing. She watched him for as long as she could stand.

"Papa?" No response. She waited before rising and quietly stepping over to him. Studying his expression, she noted a gravity to his face, but his eyes seemed to have a slight mist in them as he slowly turned to face her.

"Papa, I am fine," she had tried to reassure him as if there were some lingering doubt. He continued to gaze down on her as he lifted his hand to her shoulder with his thumb just glancing off her cheek. A sad smile hinted at his lips as he replied.

"And I am grateful that you are, my child," he said. He continued to look down at her in silence before he spoke further. "As he was leaving, Darcy suggested it would be best for you not to wander off by yourself, just for the time being." The tone to his voice implied his agreement with Mr. Darcy's suggestion.

Elizabeth cocked her head slightly as she considered what her father was saying. She appreciated the concern Mr. Darcy had shown for her safety – and had he not done that sufficiently that day! His concern elevated to such a level that he would speak to her father was a surprise, indeed. But that her father took it so seriously that he was repeating it; this showed a level of respect from her father for the man she could never have expected. She knew her father liked Mr. Bingley, but had never exhibited any great admiration for him, per se.

It only slightly crossed her mind that she was not bristling at the directive not to wander off alone. If she were being honest with herself, she thought it was rather sweet the level of concern exhibited.

As she stood pensively in the library with her father, he leaned over and kissed her forehead before pulling her against him and laying her head against his shoulder.

"Do not fret yourself. All will be well again soon, my child," he said.

The remembrance of the scene in the library caused Elizabeth to sit up straight in bed, her eyes wide open.

"Lizzie, please," Jane moaned sleepily. "What's the matter?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as she slowly laid back down, the alarm still showing on her face.

"Oh Jane," she started, "I've just remembered something."

_*P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P*_

Only three miles away, another sleepless night was occurring. The same plague of the day's remembrances was haunting one Mr. Darcy as he paced in his chamber at Netherfield. No woman—aside from his mother and sister—had ever caused him to lose sleep, but here he was, not able to think of anything other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

It was not that he found the thoughts unpleasant – quite the contrary. He remembered how surprised she looked at his first appearance that day. Her frequent glances at him before he could wrestle her away from Wickham made him realize that she looked to him for reassurance give him a feeling of pride. And when she had showed no sign of shrinking from his touch—whether her hand, her arm, her face, or holding her in his embrace—he feared he could not stop. A thousand pounds seemed but a small price to pay for the pleasure.

A thousand pounds – that had become an unforeseen issue now. Upon their return to Netherfield, Bingley had informed him that he would accept no more than half the amount, as it had been for ensuring the safety of one he hoped soon to call sister.

Bingley had surprised him today. He could almost admit a feeling of pride in Bingley showing himself the man. In matters of the heart, Bingley could easily be induced to fall in love – until faced with the young woman's father; somehow his courage could flee in the face of a father. But today, he had cautiously spoken with Mr. Bennet and showed discernment in choosing the moment to do so. It will be no surprise, thought Darcy smiling, if within six months Netherfield welcomes a new mistress.

The current acting mistress, Miss Caroline Bingley, would most likely not appreciate being displaced, but it was hardly worth anyone's concern. Bingley's & Darcy's return to Netherfield and announcement of their change of plans had startled everyone, most especially Bingley's sisters. But, as both gentlemen were quite firm in their decision, the Hursts & Miss Bingley could not protest and curtailed their departure until the next morning.

As for himself, in the morning, he would plan a return visit to Longbourn, no doubt in the company of Bingley. He hoped that Mr. Bennet would follow through on his advice that Elizabeth remain close to home for the next few days, until they could be sure she would not be preyed upon by Wickham – or, dare he think it, the duke as well. More than that, he hoped Elizabeth would not object. He allowed himself the thought it was merely out of courtesy that he visit in the morning and offer to escort her on one of her walks.

Therefore, his thoughts were most assuredly settled on Miss Elizabeth Bennet once again. He glanced down at his shoulder, as though he might find her head nestled there and replayed the moment, resisting the urge to lift his hand to cradle her head. He could almost feel her breath on his shoulder, as when he'd spoken words of assurance to her.

And then he stopped – his words. He remembered what he'd said. Would she?


	7. Beginnings of a New Day

7 – Beginnings of a New Day

_A/N: Once again, I apologize for taking so long in writing this chapter. It really wasn't my intention to take this story this far, but your comments have inspired further ideas. Thank you one and all. eb_

The usually welcomed morning light that filtered through her window was a cursed reminder of the sleeplessness Elizabeth had endured until seemingly a short time before. She rose with a groan, wishing she could sleep more but knowing her body would not allow it.

Jane had already risen, sitting in front of the mirror styling her hair – prodigiously so, thought Elizabeth. She watched in silence as Jane continued arranging her hair, seemingly unaware of her audience.

"Jane, it is of no use," she said with seeming resignation, "you are already beautiful and he is already in love with you." Jane caught her sister's reflection in the mirror and saw the mischievous smile on her face.

"Lizzie," she said with a playful huff, "I just want to look pleasing when he arrives," and then, turning toward her sister, she corrected herself, "when _they_ arrive." Pausing momentarily to view Elizabeth's face, she asked, "Should you not also be rising for when our guests come to call this morning?"

Elizabeth drew her knees up and rested her chin on top while rolling her eyes at Jane. "I fear my lack of sleep will make it impossible to look pleasing to anyone this morning." She strained to look over Jane's shoulder in the mirror and was aghast to see how right she was. "Oh no," she gasped, "it is worse than I feared."

Jane rose with a succoring smirk on her face. "Come, Lizzie," she said, nestling behind her sister and bringing her to her feet. "We have much to accomplish if we're to make you presentable this morning. First," she said, pushing her toward the water closet, "finish in there and then we shall go about bringing forth your natural radiance." Lizzie grimaced but followed her sister's admonition.

In but a half an hour's time, the two eldest Bennet sisters were descending the stairs, making their way to the breakfast table. While Elizabeth still felt the strain of a sleepless night, Jane was contented that no small children, horses, or visiting gentlemen callers would be frightened away by her sister's appearance.

As they entered, a lively discussion between the three younger sisters was raging which their father quietly observed. Having been given only the necessary details of the previous day's events involving their sister, Messrs Bingley, Darcy, and Wickham—as well as an unknown gentleman—there were still many opinions they felt still needed expressing. Upon seeing their elder sisters enter, however, conversation came to an abrupt halt. The silent admonition from their father warned them of severe rebuke if they misspoke around Elizabeth.

After serving themselves at the side, Jane and Elizabeth both seated themselves at the table, with Elizabeth sitting to her father's left.

"Did you sleep well, Lizzie," he asked, placing his hand on hers; she raised her head to answer, but Jane took the responsibility for her.

"She slept rather fitfully, Papa." Elizabeth's deadly glare at Jane was met with playful defiance. "Lizzie experimented with several sleep positions before she was able to get some rest."

Mr. Bennet squeezed Elizabeth's hand in comfort. "I'm sure it is to be expected after such a tumultuous day," he said in consolation. "You will sleep when your body tells you it must."

Their breakfast ended with light and decidedly less animated conversation than their usual with all headed off to tend to their various responsibilities.

Mrs. Bennet had remained in her chambers, still attempting to settle her nerves from the previous day. That her husband had spoken to her quite candidly about her treatment of Elizabeth—and had apprised her of the events of the day as well—had caused a sullenness to descend upon her was a factor in her seclusion. Never had he spoken to her in such a manner; yes, he had been firm in his words to her on previous occasions, but usually there was some anger accompanying it. This time was different, as he was firm but accompanied by a gentle plea for her compassion; thus her need for quiet contemplation.

She pondered on her second daughter greatly. How was it that she had been blind to Elizabeth's qualities that had made her the focus of the attentions of Mr. Wickham, a Duke, and now, it seemed, the haughty and austere Mr. Darcy (with his 10,000 a year). Jane was acknowledged by all to be beautiful, but Elizabeth – perhaps she needed to reconsider her.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was keeping herself busy in the stillroom. As she had agreed with the admonition not to stray far from home, she needed an activity to keep her hands and mind busy, otherwise further reflecting on yesterday would continue. And, if she were honest with herself, Mr. Darcy had said he would come by today, Jane had confirmed to her. It would not due for her to be sitting as though she were waiting hopefully for his arrival.

As her father had been complaining of stomach discomfort, Elizabeth decided to grind burdock root to ease his suffering. Setting to her task with mortar and pestle, she focused fully on what lay before her. Her attention was so taken that she was completely oblivious to any movement or activity about her. It was not until she heard a voice directly behind her that she was aware she was no longer alone – and it startled her.

"You seem most intent on your grinding, Miss Bennet."

She wheeled around with a startled cry and stood transfixed by her visitor. Gasping for breath while holding her chest, she was finally able to speak.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Wickham?" Had she not still been struggling for breath and her heart pounding furiously, she would have had a much sharper rebuke for him.

Wickham sauntered closer to her, his face a colorful array of bruises as a result of his 'reminder' from the duke. In contrast, his stance had assumed a cockiness that Elizabeth had not remembered. Whether that was usual for him and she had not noticed, or, now that she knew his true nature, she was viewing from a different perspective, she was not sure.

"I came to see if you were well this morning," he replied, stopping no more than two feet in front of her. Elizabeth braced herself against the workbench behind her before responding.

"I _was_ fine, sir, until you frightened me." She realized she still had the pestle in the hand behind her; her grip tightened on it, still looking at Wickham intently. "You seem to be doing well, sir, for someone who fought valiantly, defending the honor of an ungrateful young lady."

His smirk nauseated her. "Yes, well, Miss Bennet, I've had worse." She was stunned by his admission, as though it was a common occurrence. Her breath nearly recovered, she was now glowering at him.

"Why did you lie? Is it your custom to make a stressful situation even more so?" She tried not flinching when he found amusement in her question.

"I believe my version prevents anyone who knows differently from saying so, does it not?"

Now recovered from her shock at Wickham's sudden appearance, Elizabeth was ready to do battle with him.

"Are you not able to be truthful in anything, Mr. Wickham?" Her question caught him off guard. "Are you so well practiced in deceiving that it is the only thing you can speak? Lies?"

Wickham straightened himself before her, attempting to use his height to intimidate, but Elizabeth had no intention of backing away from her adversary.

"You have been talking to Darcy, have you not?" He asked the question though both of them knew the answer.

"Of course we have spoken," she stated matter-of-factly, "but it was his actions yesterday that forced me to see that my first impression—fed by your lies, Mr. Wickham—was totally in error." She paused to take a deep breath. "Something I was ashamed to admit to myself and to Mr. Darcy."

Wickham's eyes were getting dark with anger. Elizabeth hoped he would flee in his rage but was preparing her grip on the pestle in a firmer hold, in case she needed to defend herself. She thought of crying out for help, but as she was unsure of how near the rest of her family was, she was concerned Wickham would react and no one near enough to come to her aid. For the moment, their eyes were locked in a silent duel.

"May I assume, Miss Bennet," Wickham started slowly, "that you are now in love with Darcy?"

"That is not for you to assume," she quickly answered, "but my feelings have greatly changed from what they were." She weighed the effect her response was having on Wickham before she continued. "But my feelings are mine and mine alone and only to be shared with whoever of my choosing. And since I have no plan to share them with you, there can be nothing more for us to say to each other."

Wickham seemed shocked by what he interpreted Elizabeth was saying. To end all doubt, she made it clear. "You must go, sir. Now."

Wickham tried to resume his intimidating stance over Elizabeth; he broadened his shoulder and lifted his head, staring down his nose at her. "I believe I will leave when I have had my say, Miss Bennet."

"That is most ungentlemanly of you, Wickham," said a voice from the doorway. Both Elizabeth and Wickham looked up to see Darcy advancing with his walking stick up, ready to act as a weapon. Wickham realized quickly that any action on his part would be taken as a threat and he was not fully prepared to defend himself. Stepping back toward the door and away from Elizabeth, he indicated his surrender.

"Well, Darcy, I see you are again to play the valiant knight." He hoped to get a rise from Darcy, but his barb was a clumsy one.

"I would gladly slay any dragon that threatened a lady," he paused for emphasis, "_George_."

As Wickham continued his retreat, Darcy shifted his stance so that he stood squarely in front of Elizabeth as a human shield. Wickham stood in the doorway, but tried one last taunt.

"I bid you both a good day," and then fixing his gaze on Elizabeth, "until we meet again." And he was gone.


	8. Changes

8 – Changes

_A/N: I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback you all have given – and I mean all of it! The kind words, the constructive comments; thanks to all of you. Hopefully this chapter will sustain you for a few days. Thanks so much for reading. And to those of you who comment and review without signing in, I'd love to be able to respond to your comments as well (just a little hint). Eb_

Darcy stepped quickly to the door and, surveying the immediate area, noted Wickham had indeed beaten a hasty retreat and was nowhere to be seen. Turning back to the room, he watched Elizabeth's resolve slowly crumbling before him. He had heard her bravely confronting Wickham as he had approached and was thankful he had arrived before Wickham had taken any more serious action.

Her eyes searched him for an answer. "He is fled," Darcy assured her as he stepped cautiously toward her. Fear reflected in her eyes as she scanned the entire length of him, including the top of his hat. Instinct rather than cognition told Darcy to remove his hat and he did so, placing it on the workbench—along with his walking stick—while maintaining eye contact. He let Elizabeth's countenance dictate his actions as he took another slow step toward her, carefully followed by another.

With his next step he extended his hand to her with his palm up as an invitation. She seemed to study his hand before slowly raising hers and taking his. Darcy, showing almost a reverence, raised her hand with both of his to gently kiss it while gazing down on her, meeting her eyes. Then, with unabashed tenderness, he brought her hand next to his heart and cradled it there, as though it were a most precious gift.

Elizabeth's eyes were full of wonder as she watched Darcy in his careful ministrations. Her free hand-now also free of the pestle—rose to her lips. Though her mouth was trying to speak, her brain had not formed words and nothing was said. Her first attempt was, "I…" followed by nothing. Her second was, "Oh …" followed by a slight choke before her resolve completely abandoned her.

She was once again in the sound embrace of Mr. Darcy, holding on to his lapels as she sobbed freely in his arms. Again his hand cradled her head against his shoulder as he held her close to him; his soothing tone of assurance nearly sounded like a familiar lullaby.

"He is gone; he cannot hurt you. I will keep you safe." His words continued as he gently rocked her in his arms.

Her repeated attempts to speak only resulted in heightened sobs and burying her head further into his chest. And yet, in that act, was the greatest comfort: she was aware of his scent once again. She wanted to breathe him into her system, if it were possible.

For his part, Darcy rested his cheek against the top of Elizabeth's head and had the same desire. Her scent of lavender filled his senses as he continued holding her close against him.

Moments passed as they remained together in the stillroom. When her breathing was controlled, Elizabeth was finally able to form her words. "He plans to return. I am not free of him."

Though not relinquishing his hold on her, Darcy shifted Elizabeth in his arms and gently forced her head up to see her eyes. "Wickham will not harm you; I will see to it—," and he stopped himself there. Would he be a coward, or …? She was in his arms and contentedly so. Her eyes still reflected fear, but her body showed her complete trust in him. Resolving himself, he studied her eyes and then took the conscious leap. "You are safe with me," his voice dropped, "my love."

The slight gasp escaping from Elizabeth's lips briefly concerned Darcy until he saw the barest of smiles on her lips, and the loveliest little twinkle in her eyes.

"I did hear you aright, yesterday," she said as the dawning realization increased.

"I have said it many times before," he said, but quickly amended it when he saw her brow furrow, "but only in my heart – and only for you."

The most contented of smiles crossed Elizabeth's face as they remained in their easy embrace. Her attempt to speak, "Oh, M—," was interrupted by Darcy's request.

"Elizabeth," he said, as though trying out the feel of her name on his tongue, "let me be William to you." The twinkle reappeared. "From this day on, let me be William with you."

Her smile grew with her reply. "Yes, William, as I am Elizabeth with you."

So entranced were they with the newness of their situation, that it took a few moments to realize many voices outside were calling Elizabeth's name. It wasn't until Lydia's anxious cry was near the door that their reverie was broken and Darcy stepped slightly back from Elizabeth.

"Lizzie!" Lydia cried as she stepped in the doorway and saw Darcy with her. "Oh," her alarm was evident, "I see you have been found."

Resolving to remain at ease, Elizabeth met Lydia's inquiring eyes. "Yes, apparently, Lydia," she answered with a gentle tone. "Was there something the matter?"

Lydia gulped, eyeing the two suspiciously. "Yes, we didn't know where you were and Hawkins thought he saw Mr. Wickham in the area." Watching for her sister's reaction—and seeing none—she continued. "We were worried. Everyone is looking for you, Lizzie, including Jane and Mr. Bingley."

"Well," Elizabeth started, letting out a deep breath, "could you tell everyone that you found me and that I am quite well?"

Lydia was still staring wide-eyed. "I will," she said slowly with a nod. "But," she started slowly and then blurted out the rest of her question, "Did you see Mr. Wickham, Lizzie? Was he here?"

Darcy was prepared to answer for her, but the look between them indicated Elizabeth's desire to answer for herself. "Yes," she responded quietly, "but he fled when Mr. Darcy arrived."

Lydia eyes grew wider as she indicated her desire for more information, but she was quieted by Elizabeth's lifting her head higher. "Could you let the rest of them know we'll be in, in a moment?" Lydia silently nodded and disappeared.

Elizabeth stared at the door as she felt Darcy take her hand and nestle it into the crux of his arm. As he led her from the stillroom, he momentarily halted to retrieve his hat and walking stick before proceeding out the door.

As they walked at a comfortable gait, Darcy commented, "I would like to speak with your father privately, Elizabeth, but I was hoping we could take a walk afterwards, if you feel comfortable doing so." He tried to read her reaction, but she kept her head down. "I should only be a few minutes with your father and, I promise you, you will be safe."

She raised her head and looked up at him with a smile of contentment. "I think I should like to be outside for awhile." A flicker of a shadow passed her face. "I fear I shall not be able to venture past the front door alone now."

He glanced at her from the side and tried to assure her. "Perhaps we can remedy that situation."

As they stepped into the house, Elizabeth was reminded of the scene from yesterday upon their return from Meryton. There was much activity as before, but somehow the hysteria had not reached the same heights. Deciding not to question the reason, she gave her bravest smile, hoping it was believable. Jane was the first to rush toward her with Bingley coming to stand a few steps behind her.

"Lizzie," she asked breathlessly, "are you alright? Lydia said you saw Mr. Wickham. Did you speak to him?" This she asked very pointedly, fixing her eyes, demanding a straightforward answer.

Elizabeth returned her sister's glare with a smile. "I am quite alright, Jane. He was not there very long before Mr. Darcy came, at which point Mr. Wickham felt the need to leave immediately." Her countenance almost faltered at the remembrance of Mr. Wickham's parting words to her, but was able to maintain herself and thought it best to repress this information for the time being. Even still, Jane was noting redness around her sister's eyes; surely, later, Elizabeth would confide in her more of the details.

"It is indeed a good thing you arrived when you did, Mr. Darcy." This was the first Elizabeth had seen of her mother as she stepped forward most congenially and without any of her customary agitation. Mrs. Bennet looked up at Mr. Darcy. "You must imagine, sir, how grateful we are that you have come to the aid of our Elizabeth not once, but twice in two days." Elizabeth was at a loss in the behaviour her mother displayed; she wondered whether she had taken in too much laudanum for her nerves.

Still being the gentleman he was, Darcy was prompt in his reply. "It was my pleasure, I can assure you madam," he said with a short bow. "But upon finding Wickham with Miss Elizabeth, I was quite impressed with the strength of her rejection of his advancements." Elizabeth noted the smile that played across his face. "I have noted previously her skill in exchanging barbs with even those well seasoned in the art."

She was about to give a playful slap to his arm, but realized, as he was still holding her one hand in the crux of his arm—which was noted by her family and Mr. Bingley—she did not want to bring any scrutiny on the two of them. No one noticed the slight squeeze she gave Darcy's arm – except Darcy and he said nothing.

"I am glad to see you have survived another difficulty with that man, my child," her father said, stepping forward and eyeing Darcy as well. "I trust this is not to be a habit, Lizzie." His tone was light, his face was dour; these were instances that only those closest to him could detect his mood.

"Papa," she leaned forward with her free hand on her father's arm, "I really am fine" and as an afterthought, she added, "I am only tiring of needing to repeat it so frequently lately." The lightening of her father's visage lightened Elizabeth's as well.

"Perhaps you would like to sit and rest, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy turned to her speaking quietly, but loud enough for the rest to hear, "while I speak with your father privately." There was a slightly audible shiver that went through Mrs. Bennet, causing Elizabeth to roll her eyes. But as Darcy guided her to sit, he gave her a furtive wink and smile to alleviate any embarrassment.

Straightening himself, he addressed Mr. Bennet. "Sir, would you mind if I have a word with you?"

In his usual manner, Mr. Bennet answered, "I think I would insist Mr. Darcy," and he led the two of them out of the room to his library.


	9. A Proposal

Chapter 9 – A Proposal

_A/N: Thank you again for all of your lovely—and candid—comments. You've definitely been morale boosters. _

As Darcy followed Mr. Bennet to the library, he glanced up to meet Bingley's eyes. While Bingley was most content to stay in the company of his angel, his loyalty to Darcy forced him to consider whether he needed to follow as well for the sake of moral support. Darcy gave him the slightest of winks and barely brushed his shoulder in a show of assurance he was prepared to meet Mr. Bennet solo this time. Bingley nodded in a show of support, content that he would stay with Jane, even though he would share her company with the remainder of her family.

Once again, the two men entered the library with Mr. Bennet gesturing Darcy to sit. Once settled, Mr. Bennet began, "I trust you are able to tell me more of what just transpired, Mr. Darcy?"

Instead of repeating his action of the previous day and rising as he gave his explanation, Darcy remained comfortably seated and began his exchange with Mr. Bennet in a casual, comfortable manner.

"As I approached the stillroom, sir, I could hear the heated conversation between Wickham and Miss Elizabeth," he started. "She was doing an admirable job of keeping him at bay with her words, but Wickham was exercising his physical advantage to intimidate her."

Mr. Bennet shifted and leaned closer. "Did he touch her in anyway?"

"Not that I saw," Darcy was quick to assure him, "but I'm sure she can confirm that for you herself, sir." Mr. Bennet relaxed and sat back. "He backed off immediately as I entered and then made haste to flee," Darcy continued, "but not before telling Miss Elizabeth he would see her again."

Mr. Bennet's face showed his shock before his shoulders fell. "Then he still has designs on her." He looked down in bewilderment. "But what?" He looked up. "And why?"

Darcy stood to his feet and stepped toward the older gentleman. "Sir, I don't know whether his object is to merely unsettle Miss Elizabeth or to do actual harm." The look in Mr. Bennet's eyes turned to fear. "But I believe his motive is revenge."

"Revenge," he asked. "Against …?"

Darcy cleared his throat. "Against both Elizabeth and myself." Ah, his first slip; he thought he was being careful and he berated himself. The slight shift in his face told Darcy Mr. Bennet caught it too.

"Wickham lost face yesterday in front of her. He is always a threat, but now that she knows the man he truly is, she is a danger to him; something he cannot abide."

"And you, Darcy?"

"Wickham has a long history of grievances against me and has used others to exact his revenge." Darcy's pause gave Mr. Bennet an opening.

"And that affects Lizzie…?," he asked, trying to sound casual.

He was not ready to admit it yet. "Wickham believes there is an attachment between Miss Elizabeth and myself," he responded with his head dropping, avoiding the man's eyes.

But the man's probing was not finished and required satisfaction. "And he thinks this because …?"

Darcy lowered his head even more if possible, trying to hide, but then ... Mr. Bennet saw what looked liked the closest thing to a smile show on the younger man's face. Raising his head to address Mr. Bennet, he felt the unfamiliar warmth of a blush cross his face.

"Sir, though I have tried to deny it to myself, I believe I," he steadied himself (to the hidden amusement of his audience), "I have fallen in love with your daughter, sir."

Suddenly Darcy understood why Bingley had been aglow after speaking with Mr. Bennet the day before: finally saying it aloud lifted a heavy load from him. It was now an established fact and he would not withdraw his admission. Looking down at his love's father, he saw the man's unabashed amusement. With an unmistakeable gleam in his eye, he continued his questioning.

"And when did you come to this understanding, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy now understood they were adversaries in a playful sport; he decided to oblige his opponent.

"I had struggled with the thought for many weeks, sir. Having come to Meryton with no plans to fall in love or keep company with any woman, I was surprised to find myself becoming more entranced by Elizabeth." As he had just announced his current state of romantic bliss, he was not averse to using her proper name now; neither was Mr. Bennet averse to hearing her name from his lips.

"Does my daughter share your affections, Mr. Darcy," he asked with a sideways glance.

"She has consented to be Elizabeth to me, when we are in private, sir."

"Have you and Lizzie discussed anything further on this, Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet realized now that questioning the now mildly squirming Darcy was a guilty pleasure, but still was unable to help himself.

"No, we have not," Darcy responded resolutely. "I plan to discuss more fully with her my feelings for her after this meeting, and, if her feelings are as I think they are, then explain that I will not immediately be asking her to be my wife."

Mr. Bennet was taken up short, as he thought he had misunderstood Darcy. Though he was aware his face asked the question, he felt his words were needed for emphasis.

"Are you saying, Mr. Darcy, that you are in love with my daughter, but do not plan to make her your wife?" He rose to his feet, advancing on Darcy. "What kind of a man are you to …?"

"You do not understand my meaning, sir," Darcy stood, quickly cutting him off to assure him. "I did not say I would not ask her at any time." Mr. Bennet still looked puzzled. "I will, but not straightaway."

"Do you not think Lizzie will accept you? Is that your hesitation?" He started settling back down into his seat. Darcy's revelation had changed the playful tone of the "game" to one much more earnest.

"On the contrary," Darcy replied quietly, "I think she would most willingly accept my offer." He looked down and pensively formed his words. "But I would not have her agree to be my wife out of any sense of gratefulness; I would have her for no other reason but love."

The playful gleam returned to Mr. Bennet's eye as he studied the younger man before him. Darcy was becoming uncomfortable as the subject of the Mr. Bennet's observation, but realized the amusement the older man was experiencing. Before he was able to inquire regarding his mirth, Mr. Bennet obliged him.

"Mr. Darcy, I do believe I never thought you would be the most besotted man I have ever seen." Darcy's shy smile made Mr. Bennet's grow even more. "And to think it is my Lizzie that has done this to you makes the whole matter even more entertaining. Until yesterday, I would never have imagined a civil word could pass between the two of you." Darcy nodded his head subtly, acknowledging there _could_ be some truth to his words.

"Indeed, sir, I am sure you are not alone in that opinion." Darcy's eyes seemed to wander before returning to the man before him. "But much has occurred to change my feelings toward Elizabeth, and, likewise, hers." Further clarifying, he added, "Not just in these two days, but during the extent of my time here in Hertfordshire and being in her company."

After studying Darcy's demeanour for a moment, Mr. Bennet, being satisfied that he could trust his favourite daughter to this man, furthered their conversation. "So, Darcy, if you are asking for my permission to further your relationship with my daughter, be assured you have it, with my blessing." He rose and offered his hand, which was heartily accepted.

"Thank you, sir," responded Darcy, rising as well, "but this does not conclude our business, as there is a proposal of another kind I would like to put forward." Mr. Bennet inclined his head for Darcy to continue.

"As there is a continuing threat from Wickham," he began seeing Mr. Bennet grimace, "I would like to propose removing Elizabeth from Meryton until we can be assured of no further risk to her safety." Mr. Bennet was silent as he reseated himself, considering Darcy's words.

"Are you proposing somewhere specific? Somewhere she, herself, is safe, as well as her reputation?" The piercing glare from Mr. Bennet gave Darcy no equivocation of his meaning.

"Sir, I can provide the safety of Pemberley or my place in London to Elizabeth, accompanied by a chaperone of your choosing." Mr. Bennet still eyed him warily.

"Sir," Darcy tried, now in a tone eschewing formality, but sounding as a plea, "With Wickham brazenly trespassing on your property today, there can be no dismissing the threat he poses, whatever his motives are." He now sounded desperate, "You must know that I would do anything to ensure Elizabeth's safety."

There was sense in everything Darcy said, Mr. Bennet reasoned, but he was still uneasy about letting "his" Lizzie out of his sight. He struggled with his guilt over not keeping her safe there at Longbourn and his resentment that Darcy could seemingly give her what he could not provide. Still, he had to resign himself that the most important issue was that his daughter, his dearest daughter, was made safe.

"I thank you for your offer and concern, Mr. Darcy," he began, "perhaps her safety may be more suitably ensured elsewhere." Glancing out the window, he added, "My wife's brother lives on Gracechurch Street. Do you know if?" He turned to look at Darcy.

"Not well, but yes, I know of it."

Resuming his gaze out the window, Mr. Bennet went further. "Lizzie is very close to my brother Gardiner and his family. Perhaps she could stay with them comfortably until the militia has moved on." By "militia" both men knew specifically to whom he referred. "I will post a letter to them to inquire; they will be here at Christmas and by that time, things surely will have returned to their wearisome normalcy." He said this, returning to his usual, sardonic manner.

"May I suggest, sir, sending an express, and pending an affirmative answer from your family, have the same messenger summon my carriage here for Elizabeth's transport."

Mr. Bennet regarded the younger gentleman. "Mr. Darcy, I must say you seem to think of everything," he said with reluctant admiration. "I thank you and accept your offer."

With relief, Darcy responded, "I am only too happy to provide the service, sir."

Standing to indicate—once again—that their business was concluded, Mr. Bennet stepped with Darcy toward the door.

"And now, Mr. Darcy," he said, opening the door, "I believe you were intending to speak with my daughter."

_A/N: Yes, there's more; just give me a little bit of time._


	10. A Different Place

10 – A Different Place

_A/N: Thank you all for your continued comments, corrections, and kind words. Please be advised that I took liberties with Regency Era propriety in this chapter; I'm sure some will not look kindly on this, but I assure you I meant no harm._

The crisp autumn air was like a welcomed kiss on her cheeks as Elizabeth walked with Darcy away from Longbourn.

She had sat with her family and Mr. Bingley while her father and Darcy were having their "talk" in the library. Though Elizabeth was not yet ready to discuss Mr. Wickham's surprise appearance that morning, everyone else in her family seemed to have no such loss; Jane had skilfully directed the conversation so that Elizabeth would not bear questions directed at her. The man in question—yesterday known as "a true gentleman"—was now degraded to "that wretched man" in the eyes of Mrs. Bennet; how the mighty have fallen, thought Elizabeth.

Upon their return from the library, Darcy, not hiding a quietly confident smile, had reminded her that he had promised her a stroll. With his hand outstretched to her, she rose and, once she had added her outside attire, joined him outside.

They walked up the road, side by side, before navigating away up a hill, when Darcy had asked her to show him what she considered one of her favourite vistas. They climbed up a gentle hill near to its summit before finding Elizabeth's desired location. It was what she in her imagination called "her quilting place" for the landscape encompassed the many different fields, reminiscent of a colourful quilt.

Looking about, Darcy noticed a large oak tree with a fallen log rolled next to it and led Elizabeth over to sit. Their conversation had been sparse and sporadic as they had come to this place and Elizabeth, suspecting she knew what would take place, was quietly contemplating how she would answer him. Once she was seated, she made sure there was ample room for Darcy to sit as well, but when he remained standing, she looked up. His face retained its earlier smile and the look in his eyes held such warmth that she found it difficult to look away.

Still holding her hand, he leaned down, kissed it, and then placed it in her lap before stepping back, standing at attention, and addressing her.

"Miss Bennet," he started, at which she cocked her head in mock surprise at his formality. He inclined his head raising an eyebrow, with his unspoken request to oblige him, which she nodded in assent.

"Miss Bennet," he began again, "I would like to ask you a few questions," pausing for emphasis in this, their own private drama, "with your consent."

Her voice held the same smile as her eyes did as she nodded, "I am at your service, Mr. Darcy."

Bowing slightly, Darcy thanked her. "I understand, Miss Bennet, that you were recently given an offer of marriage. Is that correct?"

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "Yes, sir, that is correct."

Now pacing slowly, "And was that offer from a most revered and respected gentleman by the name of Mr. Collins, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, sir, that is also correct, at least that is the name of the gentleman," she said smugly.

Darcy had to inwardly chuckle at her response. "Thank you, Miss Bennet, for that clarification."

"My pleasure, sir."

"Now, Miss Bennet, may I ask, what was your response to the offer this Mr. Collins made to you?" He stopped pacing and stared directly at her.

Elizabeth had only spoken to Jane about the details of her refusal of Mr. Collins and had not planned to speak further to anyone. Forcing herself, she responded, "I thanked him for his offer, but refused him," she sighed, "sir."

"I see," he replied and resumed pacing. "And why," he asked wheeling around to face her again, "did you refuse the offer of this Mr. Collins; a man with a secure future, a man of intellect," he barely could say the words, "a man who will inherit your family home at your father's passing, a man who enjoys the patronage of one Lady Catherine deBourgh. I ask you, Miss Bennet, why would you refuse him." He drew closer to her and stopped. His eyes were still playful, but an intensity was now showing.

Elizabeth, looking up, noticed the change. Quietly she answered him, "Because I do not love him, sir, nor do I anticipate that changing at any time."

"Ah hah!" was the quick response from Darcy, startling Elizabeth. He resumed his pacing with renewed energy. "And why is it necessary, Miss Bennet? Why will you not marry a man you do not, nor plan to love? Why, Miss Bennet, when it would be advantageous for your family to do so?"

Though Darcy was maintaining the mock interrogation, Elizabeth was now seriously questioning her own heart. Her demeanour was becoming more serious as she weighed the question Darcy was posing.

She averted her gaze from him as she answered. "I could not consent to be married to a man I did not love, sir." Why was this becoming hard for her? She thought she knew her feelings.

"Then may I ask of you another question, Miss Bennet"? He posed the question as he sat on the opposite side of the log, but next to her so that he faced her, their right arms touching. She nodded for him to continue.

His voice was quiet as he asked, "Miss Bennet, do you know the difference between feeling gratitude and being in love?" His eyes were gentle, but there was a plea in them – asking for the deep honesty she had always shown. She leaned back against the tree for support, as though an arrow had pierced her.

Still studying his eyes, she slowly answered, "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I know the difference."

Satisfied she was being completely honest with him, he quietly asked, "Then, Miss Bennet, I must ask you" she braced herself as he asked her; "do you love me?"

Why did her chest feel tight at that moment? Why was it hard to breathe? As she took a deep breath, she reasoned out her words carefully before answering, "I believe that I am very open to loving you, Mr. Darcy." She saw him physically relax before her, as he was further assured of her truthfulness. "I am, as you say, very grateful to you and cannot help but hold you in high admiration for your bravery on my behalf, as well as the kindness and generosity you've shown, especially at high personal cost, even when received by an undeserving party." She paused, trying to evaluate her next words before continuing while Darcy silently watched her face.

"I believe, sir, this is the beginning of love," she looked him carefully in the eye, "but, as no one has inspired this in me as you have, I am at a loss to be certain."

Darcy's gaze was growing in intensity, but before Elizabeth could be fearful, his face broke into a smile of such kindness she'd never seen.

"Then Elizabeth," he said, drawing closer to her, "allow me the opportunity in assisting you to be certain." He was still studying her eyes as he leaned forward and, gently touching her chin, he brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

The feel of his lips against hers, his taste filling her mouth, his hand moving to cradle her head, his scent once again – Elizabeth was lost in everything Fitzwilliam Darcy and hoped never to be recovered. Yet as lost as she was, she needed more. Her hands were clasped together, restrained from reaching out to touch him; she felt her body reacting to him in ways that were new to her. She was both frightened and excited by his intimacy.

Darcy reluctantly released her lips and pulled back, studying her reaction and thinking if he removed his hand, she would fall over. He saw her hazy expression, as though waking from a dream. No words were coming from her lips and her eyes shifted their gaze from his eyes to his lips, lingering longer and longer on his lips each time. He smiled, knowing what she preferred his next action to be, but he would not be hasty.

"Elizabeth?" She was not responding yet, still gazing at his lips with a hidden smile alighting on hers. "Elizabeth," she was finally showing awareness, "are you alright, my love?"

She raised her eyes to his and gave him a lazy smile. "Oh William," her voice barely above a whisper, "I think I shall be in love with you soon … and forever."

His amusement at the usually articulate Elizabeth was quite evident as he brought her to him again for a kiss before nestling her head against his shoulder. They sat quietly contemplative, she in his arms resting her hand against his chest, mindlessly fingering a button on his vest as he placed soft kisses on her forehead.

"You did that yesterday, didn't you?" Elizabeth asked quietly, not moving her head.

"Of what are you speaking?" Darcy responded, looking down at her.

She now shifted up out of his embrace so that their eyes met. "When I fainted and thought I was floating; I thought I felt something brush across my forehead." She looked into his eyes for confirmation. "You kissed me then too."

"I was trying to bring you around from your swooning, but was not very successful," he said matter-of-factly. "Although," and with this he smiled smugly, "now that I have seen your reaction to a kiss, I believe I was in error and should avoid the action next time you faint."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed playfully, "As long as you do not avoid the action altogether, Mr. Darcy."

He brought her toward him again, "Indeed, my lady, I shall not," and kissed her again.

She pulled back, maintaining her playful attitude. "Now, sir," she started, in a tone imitative of the one he used with her when they first arrived at what was now 'their' tree, "You posed your questions to me, which I answered truthfully and honestly." Darcy nodded silently. "So," she continued, "does it not seem right that I be allowed to do the same with the same cooperation?"

"I am your humble servant, madam." He nodded in mock humility for her to proceed. However, where Darcy had remained a formal distance from Elizabeth when he began his questioning, Elizabeth felt no such compunction and remained close to the embrace of Darcy, should the need for further contact arise.

"Then, Mr. Darcy," she began with a tone of faux haughtiness, "since you questioned my affections for you, my opinion of marriage, whether to Mr. Collins or some other unnamed gentleman," her hand waved in the air in a gesture similar to her mother's, "I must ask you, sir," and with this she settled herself and gave him the same pleading look of honesty he gave her, "do you love me?"

His words did not come straightaway, as his answer was shouted through his eyes and spreading across his face. Reaching his hand to stroke her cheek, he quietly answered he, "Oh yes, Elizabeth, I do, ardently and passionately do I love you." Such a pronouncement could not be made without a mandatory kiss.

When they parted, she smiled at him and realized she was not interested in continuing their game of interrogation; however, as she still had questions to ask, she continued but in a quieter tone.

"How long have you loved me?" Her expression no longer reverting to the one of pleading, as she knew he would be honest with her as she had been.

"Elizabeth," he began, "I did not come to Hertfordshire to find a wife," he continued speaking, but as his hands needing something to occupy him, they usually found Elizabeth. "I came only to accompany Bingley in looking at Netherfield." His gaze drifted as he reviewed in his mind what his first impressions were upon his arrival to the area.

"I have been subjected all my life to the attentions of whatever society I am in for the purpose of benefitting someone other than myself, whether for business or marriage, or the two combined. It is such a common situation for me that my first acquaintance with any person or persons is marked with suspicion." Elizabeth saw he was becoming as the Darcy she first met and, not wanting to spoil this setting, she reached up and stroked his cheek, causing him to face her. He put his hand over hers, and, bringing it to his lips, he kissed her palm tenderly; he was her Darcy again.

"When we arrived at the Meryton assembly," he impulsively kissed her hand again, "I was overwhelmed first by the many sets of eyes seeming to devour me on sight. The room was full with whisperings of known details of my life and much speculation; I felt on display before them all." He looked down at the hand he was holding, turning it over, as if inspecting a new book.

"And then," looking up, but not meeting her eyes, "in this room of people I considered simple, unrefined, unsophisticated – I saw a pair of eyes that captured my heart." His heartbreaking honesty now threatened Elizabeth's resolve. "I was so sure it was the drink or the temperature of the room that was affecting me and was loathe to give any indication what was transpiring within me." He hung his head, not allowing her to see his feeling of guilt. "I believe I even told Bingley that you could not tempt me."

Elizabeth lifted her hand that he'd been holding, bringing his hand up to her lips and gently kissing it. The serenity of her smile touched him as she placed his hand next to her cheek and cradled it there. "I know, William, I heard you." His eyes went blank as he gazed at her, but before he could say any words of apology, with her smile unchanged, he heard her say, "Continue."

He smiled at her assurance before he spoke further. "I tried to deny my feelings for you, but it was to naught – they were too strong. Every time we were invited to an event where I knew you would be, I found myself anxious to see you again. And the day you came to Netherfield to care for your sister, I could not imagine any woman looking so beautiful," a glimmer sparked in his eyes, "even with mud-caked petticoats."

She slapped him across the chest, but he caught her hand before she could retract it and kissed it, followed by using it to reel her in closer for another kiss to the lips. Instead of allowing her to pull back, he kept hold and again nestled her against his shoulder in a relaxed embrace before he resumed his tale.

"If I hadn't already begun falling in love with you, Elizabeth, your time caring for your sister at Netherfield made it impossible to forestall otherwise. You were so kind-hearted toward your sister and also ready with a sharp retort for anything Caroline Bingley threw at you. You were everything wonderful." With this he kissed the top of her bonnet.

"William, you make me sound so perfect and flawless," she looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow, "and yet I know otherwise." This time he kissed the tip of her nose and smiled at her before bringing her head again to his shoulder.

"I was finding it harder to deny my feelings for you after your stay at Netherfield. And then," he paused, "And then I saw you in town with Wickham." With this said, he protectively tightened his arms around her as she had momentarily stiffened at the mention of Wickham's name. She buried her face in his chest and let out a shuddering sigh. "Oh, William, how utterly foolish I was to be taken in by him."

He silently consoled her in his embrace before he spoke. "Elizabeth, I trust there will soon be a time when the mention of his name will not bring you any sense of guilt." She turned her head sideways, not moving from his arms and quietly sighed, "As do I." They were quiet again before he continued.

"I thought you were lost to me," his voice showed the despair he had felt. "I didn't think it right for me to interfere in your life, nor could I publicly speak against Wickham as …" his words greatly faltered. Elizabeth sensed his sudden difficulty with speaking and rose from his embrace to see what troubled him. "William? What is it?" Her voice was full of concern.

After a few moments of hesitation, he said, his distress evident, "During this summer past, Wickham persuaded my sister to elope with him." Elizabeth's face turned ashen. "She was but fifteen." His statement caused both to pause, but the horror was growing on Elizabeth's face.

"Do you mean Mr. Wickham is your brother?"

Darcy reached for her hands and held them in his. "No, Elizabeth, do not be alarmed," he quickly said, trying to settle her. "By divine chance, I was able to disrupt his plans and put a stop to it before his plan was complete." Her relief was evident as she gave out a deep sigh. Darcy studied her countenance as she looked away, deep in thought.

He eventually leaned closer to her, capturing her attention before addressing her further. "So you see, when I saw you yesterday, walking with him, and then surrounded by the duke's men," as she visibly shuddered at the memory he raised his hands to her arms to steady her, "I could not stop myself." He looked at her intensely as his lips struggled to say the words. "I should have warned you sooner; if I had, you would not have endured the confrontation with the duke yesterday." He gathered her further in his embrace. "I shall ever regret not telling you sooner of Wickham."

Elizabeth's compassion for his remorse surfaced as she stroked his cheek. "But, William," capturing his attention, "had yesterday's unfortunate occurrence not taken place, would I be in your arms today?" She brought her hand down to rest against his heart as he gazed upon her.

"Elizabeth, I will always be grateful for any opportunity to hold you in my arms," he said, but his voice sounded cold as he added, "but never to Wickham."

"Then," she said after recovering from his sudden change in demeanour, "Perhaps it would be best we not speak of him further. We have much more pleasant things to dwell on, I think." Her sly smile helped Darcy recover his previous congenial manner. While still holding her with one hand, he reached and took the hand she rested on his chest and brought it to his lips. "Perhaps, you are right," he replied with a creeping smile.

"However," Darcy started, "I am afraid there is another issue we must discuss as a result of Wickham's recent actions." Elizabeth was now at a loss as to what he referenced.

"I have discussed with your father about taking you away from here for awhile, for your safety, until this business with Wickham can be resolved."

Elizabeth was stunned. "What do you mean by 'taking me away,'" she asked, almost fearfully. "My father has consented to this without consulting me?"

"Elizabeth, please," he said trying to allay her anxiety. "I offered to take you with me to Pemberley or to London to stay, with a chaperone of his choosing." She settled herself as his words registered in her head. "Did you think you were to be locked up in a room at Bedlam or a nunnery?" His question was purposely farfetched, but she realized a similar thought had crossed her mind causing her to smile at her own gullibility. She looked at Darcy who reflected the same smile.

"So where am I to be transported, sir," she asked in a much more relaxed tone.

"An express is being sent to your uncle in Cheapside, even as we speak." She subtly inclined her head. "If he is agreeable, then my carriage will be brought here on the morrow to take you to London until Christmas, by which time, we hope everything may be resolved with Wickham."

"Then it seems, sir, that I should be making myself ready for the morning." Elizabeth was indicating her intent to rise.

Darcy rose first and extended his hand to her to assist. Rising herself, she found herself in his arms once again.

"Elizabeth," she thought his voice especially mesmerizing; "I believe I have overstepped the limits of propriety with you during this time." It was true, he had, conceded Elizabeth, but she wasn't bothered by the idea. "Since yesterday, due the situations we were in, I found it necessary to be physically close." He paused for her to comment, but with none coming, he continued. "Having done so, I have not felt the need to maintain the strict formality normal to a couple not yet engaged."

"As we are 'not yet engaged', William, what status are we then," she asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"We are," he said, trying to sound officious, "with your father's blessing, courting."

"I see," she replied, "and how long are we to be 'courting' then," she asked maintaining her playful attitude.

"I shall court you until the time you tell me you are in love with me and cannot live without me. At that time, I shall ask you to make me the happiest man that ever lived." He kept his eyes on her as their smiles mutually broadened.

"However," he quickly added, "should anyone observe us, as now, and question your reputation, then, we shall immediately become engaged and marry swiftly." This he said to ensure she understood the seriousness of his intentions. "For you see, as I said yesterday, I could not force you into anything; the dictates of society, however, may."

"I understand you, William, very well." She looked up into his eyes. "I think I shall enjoy being courted very much – for years perhaps."

"Oh Elizabeth," he said softly, drawing her close one last time before they returned to Longbourn, "You would not be so cruel, would you?"

"William, I think it shall be not long at all."

He kissed her once more and then began their walk to Longbourn to prepare for London and what awaited them there.

The End of Book I

_A/N: Do not fear, there will be more; I am only taking a break from this story and will continue it in London. Remember, I was planning to end this after chapter 5 and leave the rest to your imaginations, but since you paid me the ultimate compliment of wanting more, I acquiesced (and am very grateful). In the meantime, I need to think through the plot of the next part, as well as get a couple of other stories off my chest. Thank you all so much for making my first P&P so much fun! Eb_


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